‘Ooh, take him up on that one,’ Joy had laughed. ‘Come and have a gin with me and we’ll have a gossip.’
I was touched, and hopeful this meant Dan was happier again, back to his old self. So while Dan put the children to bed, I stayed downstairs with the rest of the family. We had a few drinks, played card games and when Dan didn’t come down, I assumed he’d fallen asleep. ‘He’ll be lying on one of the kids’ beds, completely gone,’ I laughed, when I said good night to everyone a little earlier than usual.
I remember it so clearly, walking up the stairs and hearing his voice. It was tender, gentle, and at first, I assumed he was talking to one of the children, but it was after ten, and too late for one of them to be awake. And when I reached the children’s room, I realised his voice was coming from our bedroom. At first it didn’t make sense, until it dawned on me that he must be on the phone.
Something stopped me from going inside, and I listened to him talking for a few minutes – the odd word, a laugh, the tone he used to use with me. ‘What time’s your flight?’ he asked. Then I heard him say something that broke my heart. ‘Yes, yes, of course, darling, I meant every word, but I can’t tell her now – we’re on holiday. I can’t do that to her… or the kids. Trust me, I’ll sort it all out when we get home.’
I stood outside the door, trying to work out if any of these words could be misinterpreted. Was it all so obvious? He was my husband, the father of our two children, we were family – we didn’t lie or cheat. We loved each other. Didn’t we? How naïve I was back then. My instinct at the time was to storm in, confront him, ask what was going on. But I wanted to hear more. I think somewhere deep down I hoped to hear him address one of his friends, or say something that completely reinterpreted what I feared and if I stood there long enough that would make it better. But standing there I was simply exposing myself to real pain, the kind of pain that messes you up for a while. ‘Of course I do,’ he was saying softly, ‘and I want us to be together… I know, I know. Darling… listen to me – I need you to be patient. No, I can’t! You know I can’t – I can’t just walk away tonight. These things take time.’
Hearing my husband call someone else ‘darling’ was the sharpest, most painful slap. I knew then, all the months of feeling unwanted, like he’d disengaged from me and the kids, the late nights, the total lack of interest in me and everything I did, I knew. It all made sense now. But instead of storming in and confronting him, I crumbled, felt my legs buckling under me, and I knew if I went into the bedroom now, it would be over. I had two children, I had a family, it was everything I’d ever wanted; if I confronted him now, that would mean the end of everything. Did I really want that?
I couldn’t think straight, I needed time to work out what to do next, so I turned and ran away back down the stairs. I didn’t know where I was going but found myself in the downstairs hallway and saw the front door. I opened it and ran outside – I had to get away –and as I ran through the garden, I suddenly banged into someone.
He grabbed me by my elbows, holding me firm, moving his face to mine. ‘Clare?’ His breath was on me, smoky, dark. After a few seconds, I realised it was Jamie.
‘What are you doing?’ I gasped.
‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he said, laughing. ‘Are you training for the marathon or something?’
‘No… I… wanted some fresh air,’ I said, trying to hide my distress with a smile. ‘What about you, why are you out here?’
‘Promise you won’t tell Mum?’
I nodded, vigorously. I didn’t really care what Jamie was doing. I was still reeling from what I’d heard Dan saying upstairs.
‘Me and Dad.’ He nodded over to Bob, a couple of feet away, who suddenly materialised in the darkness and put his hand up in an awkward static wave. I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me for running through the garden in tears at night, or these two who were behaving like two guilty children. ‘I brought Dad and me a couple of Cuban cigars back from Havana,’ Jamie explained. ‘But, as you know, Mum doesn’t approve of smoking.’
Despite feeling so dreadful, I almost smiled, amused at two grown men skulking in the garden, hiding from their wife and mother respectively.
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ I said.
‘Want to try some?’ Jamie was always the little brother proudly showing off how grown-up he was to his older sister-in-law. That’s how I saw it then. He was the baby of the family, until our actual babies came along. And even then, as a grown man he was referred to by Joy as ‘our late and lovely surprise’, because after Dan she didn’t think she could have any more children. And ever since I’ve known him he’s played the role of ‘cheeky younger brother’ to perfection.
I remember him picking up his cigar from where he’d left it on the wall to grab me when I bumped into him, and relit it. Meanwhile, Bob sucked hard on his like a teenager making the most of his weed before ‘Mum’ discovered what he was up to.
‘Try it.’ Jamie put the cigar to my lips. I opened them slowly, unsure if smoking a Cuban cigar was the answer to having just overheard my husband telling his lover he’d leave me.
I’d never smoked one before, and I took the cigar in my mouth cautiously, gently pulling in the smoke, the end lighting in the dark as Jamie continued to hold it.
‘Tastes like bonfire night, burning wood and treacle toffee,’ I said, coming up for air. ‘I like it – but there’s quite a bitter aftertaste.’
‘The finest cigar you’ll ever taste,’ Bob said, holding his in the air, then bringing it down to his mouth, breathing in, then slowly exuding smoke from his mouth, like a dragon. The two men were experts in their smoking deception, and I doubted it was the first time they’d hidden their vice from Joy. And I remember wondering for the first time what other secrets this family kept from each other.
Suddenly Joy’s voice pierced the companionable smoking silence. ‘Bob, Bob, where are you?’
Bob almost choked on his cigar, and quickly handed it to Jamie. ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘Don’t want her coming out here and finding both of us. I’ve got some mints here.’ He opened a pack and put a handful in his mouth, giving the rest to Jamie.
Jamie laughed. ‘It’s okay, Dad, if Mum suspects anything, we’ll tell her Clare made us do it.’
Bob rolled his eyes and Jamie just carried on smoking Bob’s cigar while his father scuttled off, shouting, ‘I’m here Joy, just popped out for a bit of fresh air.’
‘He’s terrified,’ I giggled.
‘I don’t blame him. My mother’s evangelical about not smoking, and, as we all know, her wrath is biblical.’ He smiled, taking an elegant toke on Bob’s cigar. It seemed I’d inherited Jamie’s.
‘Your mum wouldn’t be cross with you!’ I said. ‘“Our Jamie” never does anything wrong.’
‘God bless her, she doesn’t have a clue, does she?’ He raised his cigar in the air elegantly, and smiled mischievously.
I giggled. Even in my maelstrom of doubt and hurt, Jamie could lift my spirits. I was grateful, I needed this.